


Handfuls of Bliss

by avalonroses



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonroses/pseuds/avalonroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Alfred loves Arthur like crazy, and he can’t wait to meet their unborn baby—he can’t wait, because the sooner Arthur isn’t pregnant anymore, the better.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handfuls of Bliss

It’s unsurprising that an expectant Arthur is a  _handful._ Alfred hadn’t been under the impression that pregnancy was going to be all glowing skin and excitement over those first baby kicks and helping Arthur take baths, or whatever, but it isn’t nearly as  _joyous_ as everyone makes it out to be.

Alfred loves Arthur like crazy, and he can’t wait to meet their unborn baby—he  _can’t_ wait, because the sooner Arthur isn’t pregnant anymore, the better.

Right now, Alfred’s been sentenced out of the house and not permitted back inside until he finds a way to suitably sate Arthur’s cravings, which is why the alpha finds himself yelling tiredly into the receiver at a McDonald’s drive-thru at four in the morning.

Arthur’s appetite has become  _pretty damn_ weird. It hadn’t been too noticeable in his first trimester but now, at eight months, Alfred’s stumbled upon Arthur eating toasted fruit loaf with mayonnaise and dipping orange segments into sour cream.

The omega always flushes and flaps when he’s caught and inevitably starts lecturing Alfred but the alpha always assures him that he doesn’t need to be ashamed. Though, internally, Alfred thanks whatever deities are out there that he was born an alpha—because  _hell no_ he never, ever wants to be a victim of pregnancy hormones.

He orders almost everything off the menu, save for any ice creams that’ll most likely melt before Arthur can get to them, and Alfred figures  _if_ there are any leftovers, he can take care of those. The employee, a female omega, seems to take pity on him, and Alfred must look like he’s about to pass out on the wheel for the woman to throw in packets of every sauce they have without Alfred even having to ask.

The alpha enters their home as stealthily as possible but still succeeds on tripping over his shoes and making a medley of loud noises. He winces but doesn’t hear a peep from upstairs. Whistling out a sigh of relief, Alfred tiptoes into the kitchen and plates up Arthur’s recent favourites, they change on a weekly basis, since Arthur now eats the fast food on a near weekly basis—something which the omega does begrudgingly and mutters about it being the curse of carrying Alfred’s ’ _unapologetically American'_ child.

Alfred doesn’t do as good a job as he thinks at concealing the slither of pride that he feels, because Arthur clocks on and scowls at him for it. Arthur has always been eerily skilled in reading Alfred’s moods, when even Mattie, his own brother, can’t.

He pads upstairs, attempting to remain quiet, even if he knows Arthur can’t sleep through hunger pangs, he doesn’t want to alarm the omega if he’s been lulled into a state of drowsiness since Alfred left. However, when Alfred does slip into their bedroom, juggling a tower of plates, he finds the lamp switched on and Arthur steadfastly snoozing with his novel propped open on his rounded belly.

The alpha sets the plates down on the dresser and looks over his mate with a fondness, his fatigued mind softening with affection. He is a handful, there isn’t a doubt about that, but he’s also the best thing that’s happened to Alfred—and their baby will only make them all the happier.

He shuts the book, ensuring to place the bookmark in the right page, and snuggles Arthur into the duvet, kissing the omega’s forehead and his baby bump before joining his two favourite people in the world and collapsing into sleep.

Arthur complains about the stale scent of cheap cheeseburgers that’s permeated their bedroom the next morning.

-/-

Arthur’s in pre-heat.

Alfred realises first, he always does. Arthur’s body calls for him and Alfred answers the call, tranced, hypnotised by the omega’s siren song that bears the fragrance of warm vanilla and fresh lilies and _fertility._

Alfred’s impatient, hot, readywhen he ushers Arthur into the bedroom, interrupting their journey with furious kisses and ungainly attempts to strip off clothes, mostly Arthur’s, until they stumble through the door and Alfred all but throws Arthur on to the bed.The omega spreads his legs, eyes expectant, inviting and Alfred feels damnwelcomed and crawls over Arthur, pressing the smaller male into the bed with his weight. And it’s not until he’s yanking off Arthur’s trousers, the rosewater sweet, pre-heat scent infusing Alfred’s mind with carnal urgency, that Arthur falters, grips Alfred’s wrist and peers up at him with an alarmed expression.

“I’m behind…,” the omega says, breath staggered. “On my shot. We have to use a condom.”

Alfred nods quickly, understanding, and flounders into the bathroom in search of the condoms they very rarely use. Arthur usually has a bimonthly contraceptive injection but if he’s behind that means Alfred’s going to have to use condoms for Arthur’s entire heat—which sucks a little but Alfred’s only twenty-one and Arthur twenty-three, they’re not ready for kids.

Condoms, it is.

The alpha grabs one that allows for a knot—Alfred never knows if he will in Arthur’s pre-heat, but it’s better safe than sorry.

He all but sprints back into the bedroom, waving the condom in his hand as though it’s a trophy, and Arthur’s scowling, writhing from having to wait, and he drags Alfred on to the bed. The alpha rips the foil package open and Arthur grabs him between his legs, making Alfred falter and moan. And then he’s being guided into tight, _perfect_ heat and his hips snap with the pleasure, losing every ounce of his self-control as Arthur cries out, begs for more.

The alpha gives him more, gives him everything, and it’s only once they’re both sated and Alfred’s firmly knotted inside Arthur does the omega manage a comprehensible sentence in a voice that’s been rubbed raw.

“You— you didn’t forget the condom, did you?”

The foil package and _distinctly_ forgotten condom is clutched in Alfred’s hand. Not the ideal place for it to be if it’s intended to be of use. The package rustles as Alfred moves, his stomach dropping when he looks across to Arthur whose eyes are boring into him, accusatory.

“Um, of course not,” Alfred says, wincing, because he doesn’t sound remotely believable.

“Then why is it in your hand?” the omega needles, a hard expression on his face, though there is a glimmer of fear in the crease of his brow.

“I—oh, uh, so it is!” He’s messed up. “Whoops?” the alpha offers.

“Whoops, Alfred?” Arthur splutters out, outraged. “You won’t be so blasé about this if I wind up bloody pregnant, will you?”

“It’ll be fine.”

Because it will be fine, right? It would be, surely. People make mistakes; it’s easy to forget contraception sometimes, in the heat of the moment, that doesn’t mean those instances _always_ result in pregnancies. Nah. Even if Alfred has knotted… it’s only Arthur’s pre-heat.

“It’s only one time, the chances are… pretty slim?”

The alpha swallows.

“Don’t worry, Artie,” Alfred adds, pressing a cautious kiss to Arthur’s forehead.

Arthur isn’t convinced and he isn’t _pleased,_ and Alfred has to cook him his favourite meal and massage his feet to mollify the omega to the point he speaks to Alfred without the sharp lash of disapproval.

He’s right about his concerns, however, because after his pre-heat follows a faint, erratic heat, which is unusual for Arthur who usually has strong, addling heats that are _the best_ but it fails to happen.

Then he’s finding himself bent over the toilet bowl at least three days a day, and he’s _stroppy_ as hell _,_ Alfred feels as though he should be wearing a suit of armour in the house with Arthur’s volatile, furious temper.

When enough time has passed for Arthur to be able to take a test, even if the evidence is damning enough for the test to seem pointless, Arthur isn’t angry anymore, in fact, his scent is cluttered with a nervous energy that has the omega flitting close to Alfred, clingy, not wanting to move far from his alpha and Alfred’s more than happy to comply—he’s familiar with that restless energy, he’s been experiencing it himself.

The test reads positive which isn’t a surprise but it’s _staggering_ all the same. Air wheezes out of Alfred and he feels his hands and feet go cold with numbness as he stares at this piece of plastic that’s changed both Alfred and Arthur’s lives with a couple of simple, blue lines.

“Well. I suppose that’s that then,” Arthur breaths, voice muted and distant. He sniffles and grabs Alfred’s hand. The alpha squeezes his mate’s fingers and squashes him into a hug, knowing from the light, floral perfume of Arthur’s scent that his tears aren’t out of sadness.

He’s happy.

“I’m pregnant,” Arthur blurts out wetly, as though suddenly stunned by the news. Alfred understands why he needs to announce it. He’s proud, he’s delighted, he’s frightened and the inescapable reality _saying_ the fact makes it real.

Alfred smiles, nestling his head into the wild softness of hair at the top of Arthur’s head.

He’s terrified, he forgets _one_ condom and now he’s going to be father—this _is_ crazy, but he _wants_ this. It’s earlier than planned but hey, they can do it, they can be parents. They’ll do a terrible, awesome job of it.

“Whoops,” Alfred teases, grinning.

Arthur whacks him on the arm and mumbles out an affectionate, exasperated _‘idiot’._ Laughter spills from Alfred.

It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be _more_ than okay.

-/-

Arthur’s three months along and his stomach is gently, gradually beginning to round and it’s _exciting._

Alfred thinks it is, anyway, and he’s in a constant, dazzled state of awe whenever he looks at his mate. To think, their baby is growing every second of every day, becoming more and more of a small human, has Alfred unable to keep his hands off Arthur, pressing touches to his belly whenever he gets the chance despite the impossibility of feeling any movement this early on.

 

The omega pretends to be irritable with Alfred, rolling his eyes and reminding Alfred frequently that he’s a ‘berk’, but that doesn’t stop Arthur from sparing Alfred lovely, secret smiles of contentment and he never bats Alfred’s hands away.

With the pregnancy comes the powerful streak of protectiveness in Alfred—he’s always been too protective of Arthur, or so the omega always complains of that—but now that his mate’s vulnerability has exacerbated tenfold with their child inside him, Alfred is reluctant to ever allow Arthur out from under his radar for longer than necessary and in the company of other alphas, Alfred hovers, releases a threatening scent, sticking to Arthur’s side like a guard dog.

That _does_ annoy Arthur but Alfred can’t stop himself and Arthur accepts that with all the grumbles and sarcasm Alfred’s more than accustomed to.

“Check this out!” Alfred declares, eyes gleaming with giddiness behind his glasses as he bounds over to yet another toy. It’s some sort of electronic puzzle and Alfred eagerly begins to play, earning himself a pointed huff from his mate who’s stood in front of the shopping cart with his arms on his hips, prepared to scold Alfred. _Again._

Alfred beams at Arthur, undeterred by his mate’s exasperation as he continues to play and the automated voice cheers him on.

“Come on, Artie! This is awesome! We have to get it.”

The alpha gazes up at his mate, eyes wide and animated, and Arthur melts, arms relaxing by his sides as he potters over to Alfred.

“For the _baby,_ Alfred, not for you,” the omega says in a soft sigh, his tone smudged with an unwilling mirth. “Put it in the trolley then.”

“Hell yeah!” Alfred plops the toy into their shopping cart, the collection has been amassing rapidly since they’d entered the shop and Arthur has yet to choose anything.

“I think that’s enough toys, don’t you?”

Arthur pushes a weary humming sound from his throat and arches his spine, his brow scrunching in what appears to be distress.

“Hey, you okay?” the alpha queries, worry surging into his system and he reaches out to rub circles into the small of Arthur’s back. The omega responds like a cat receiving a petting, and Alfred’s sure he’d be purring if he could, so Alfred brings both his hands to Arthur’s back and kneads his fingers until the omega’s liquid in his hands.

“You need to sit down, sweetheart,” Alfred informs Arthur. “Come on, let’s stop for now.”

“No, no,” Arthur returns, stroking a hand down Alfred’s bicep—a gesture of reassurance for the alpha. “I’m fine, honestly, that really helped. We can have a sit down after we’ve found some _practical_ items—”

“Ooh, like little t-shirts that say ‘I Heart Daddy’?” Alfred’s grin almost splits his face.

“No—” Arthur shakes his head with despair. “Well, yes! But—”

Chuckling, darkly mischievous, Alfred leans into Arthur and whispers into his ear, “Don’t worry, baby, we can get you one of those t-shirts too.”

Arthur blushes burning scarlet and Alfred would have gotten a smack if he wasn’t faster than Arthur, even while pushing the shopping cart, and he laughs madly as the omega launches into a tempestuous, embarrassed rant.

-/-

The school breaks are convenient for Arthur, since the omega is an elementary school teacher; summer break begins when Arthur’s last trimester starts so Arthur doesn’t have to go back into work until his maternity leave ends.

Alfred’s thankful Arthur is no longer in work, because it had been taking its toll on the heavily pregnant omega, but now he worries about Arthur at home alone while Alfred is working. Naturally, Alfred employs help to ensure Arthur is okay and has Matthew, his omega brother who has an occupation in advertisement which allows him to work from home a lot, check up on Arthur—though surreptitiously because Arthur will get mad if he finds out Alfred’s asked for Mattie’s help.

Matthew agrees, he and Arthur get along exceedingly well when Arthur isn’t terrorising people with his mood swings, though he cautions Alfred that Arthur _will_ figure out Alfred’s role in Matthew’s sudden, frequent visits.

It takes two weeks for Arthur to cotton on and Matthew calls to forewarn Alfred, while the alpha is swimming several stacks of paperwork, that he’s in _trouble_ and the trouble is heading his way.

Which means Arthur is on his way to ‘visit’ Alfred, obviously in such a wrathful tizzy that Matthew couldn’t stop him.

Alfred groans, face-planting his desk as he waits for his enraged mate to come bursting into his office to chew Alfred’s ear off and rip his dignity to shreds in front of his co-workers.

He straightens and swallows a gulp of breath, readying himself.

Best to just take it like an alpha.

When Arthur does make an appearance, it’s not what Alfred’s prepared himself for and the alpha’s on his feet in an instant, concern spearing through him with the sting of a frigid ice pick. Arthur steps into his office, face pinked and blotchy, stained with damp tear tracks, and Alfred draws Arthur into a hug, the scent of his distraught mate causing more damage to Alfred than any physical wound.

“I’m sorry,” Alfred says, low and ashamed.

He shouldn’t have had Matthew keep an eye on Arthur, both he and Matthew knew Arthur wouldn’t appreciate being spied upon, essentially, made to feel as though he couldn’t cope on his own—which isn’t what Alfred thinks, either—but he’s acted like an asshole and he deserves Arthur’s anger. He should never have upset Arthur enough to have made him _cry._

Award for crappiest mate of the year surely goes to Alfred.

“I shouldn’t have asked Mattie to watch over you, I just— I can’t stop worrying about you and the baby—”

“I know,” Arthur interjects in a hushed, crackly voice. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re… not?”

“Well, not anymore. I was mad when I left the house,” the omega confesses with a small, tired laugh.

“Oh?” Alfred pulls back, confused, and looks at Arthur. He wipes a stray tear from underneath his eye.

Arthur peers up at Alfred for a moment, biting his lip in what Alfred knows to be shame, and the omega tucks his face back into Alfred’s chest, pressing up against Alfred as best he can with the large bump between them. That settles it then, Arthur’s embarrassed.

“I miss you.” Arthur is subdued enough that Alfred almost misses what he says. “I hate being at home without you.”

Alfred squeezes Arthur in tighter and kisses the crown of the omega’s head, feeling warm and fluttery at his core as he looks down his quirky, perfect mate.

“I miss you too,” Alfred says easily, honestly, and brings his hand to Arthur’s belly. “I miss both of you.”

Alfred’s boss is a stern, German guy whose expressions are seemingly carved from marble, but the alpha’s not that bad, behind his unyielding exterior, and allows Alfred to leave early from work. The alpha drives Arthur home, consoling a fretful Matthew when the omega flies to them the moment they’re through the door.

Matthew doesn’t linger for long and after his brother leaves, Alfred ushers Arthur on to the sofa with his current book and a mug of steaming, sweet tea. He joins Arthur not long after, nuzzling up against the omega, languidly satisfied to rest his head against Arthur’s stomach and listen to the swirl and twitches of life inside the omega, their baby dreaming as they slept, and Arthur combs his fingers through Alfred’s hair as he flicks through his novel with his other hand.

Alfred will refute what anyone else thinks, he has the best family in the world—he _is_ the happiest alpha in the world.

-/-

Alfred isn’t saying Arthur can _help_ the fact that his waters break when they’re out on a leisurely stroll through a forest, _in the middle of nowhere,_ but it’s so _Arthur._

Alfred doesn’t know why he expected any better—for Arthur to go into labour when they were safe and prepared in their own home.

The omega is a week overdue and he’s suffering for it, quite vocally, and Alfred feels especially helpless as his mate plods about the house, unable to get comfortable no matter what Alfred offers, and he’s _absolutely_ huge—Alfred’s sure that doesn’t help Arthur’s many aches and pains.

It’s too early to induce him, and Arthur has vowed from the beginning that he wants as few medical interventions as possible though he’s never been against the help of pain relief and after over nine months of pregnancy, Arthur’s most likely hankering to be drugged up to the eyes with pain relief.

The doctor has recommended utter peace for Arthur, no strenuous work, including sex which upsets both Arthur and Alfred greatly, and long walks and hot baths should be had in excess.

Arthur’s been complaining of a stomach ache all day, and he hasn’t slept a wink, so Alfred suggests yet another walk, because there’s nothing left to suggest anymore, and Arthur is restless and desperate enough to agree.

Alfred’s supporting Arthur’s weight when they decide to head back home, which unfortunately involves an uphill slope, and Arthur’s complaints of stomach pains are becoming more frequent until Arthur eventually clutches at Alfred with a death grip and yelps, his other hand cradled underneath his belly.

“Okay, this is getting _real bad,_ we’re not walking back,” Alfred says, sharp and on the verge of panic because his mate is in a great deal of pain and there’s nothing he can do to help. “I’m gonna ring Matt, he can drive us to the—”

Arthur releases a strange whine, then Alfred hears a gushing sound as liquid collides with the ground beneath Arthur.

“…hospital.”

Alfred’s heart constricts, tight and rattled as his mind connects the dots of what has just occurred. His eyes are trained to Arthur, wide and unblinking and _scared out of his mind_ as he realises what this means. Arthur’s expression seems to mirror his and the omega has turned an unnerving shade of white.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Arthur agrees, short of breath.

Matthew is there in record time, thank _God_ , and there isn’t time for fear or apprehension or frantic questioning because Arthur is rushed into the natal ward where he’s declared _definitely_ more than ready to start pushing and Alfred swears he hears a nurse make a comment about Arthur having been in labour for hours, which would be impossible, _right?_ Arthur’s not been in labour since last night, has he?

Alfred spends the next half an hour with his hand in a grip that has irrevocably crushed his bones into dust. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and his mind is a scrambled, uncomprehending mess as Arthur swears and pants and pushes and the nurses are chant ‘ _push push push’._

The alpha encourages as best he can.

And then there’s a shrill shriek of a baby and Alfred is crying. He doesn’t remember when he decided to cry, or why he’s so dazed and dizzied, spinning on his own axis with a tidal wave of overwhelming emotion, and he’s hugging Arthur more fiercely than he ever has in his life, feeling the omega tremble and sob in his arms.

Alfred’s tapped on the shoulder and scissors are handed to him. He cuts the umbilical cord which is all gross and has a bunch of stuff on it but Alfred pretends it’s not there. It doesn’t matter anyway because when his eyes hysterically search the room for their child, he sees a tiny bundle of blankets and even tinier pink hands waving from amongst the swaddle of fabric being passed to Arthur.

It’s quiet, tranquil, for just a moment, stillness amongst the roiling of chaos and Alfred stands and watches his mate cradling their baby in the second of stolen calmness, feeling love swell inside him, bright and incandescent and unbreakable.

He breaks the peace and joins Arthur, perching at the edge of bed and tucking his arm behind Arthur’s head. The omega _beams_ up at him, an expression that’s rare but strikingly beautiful on Arthur.

“A girl,” Arthur says. “A little omega girl.”

Two sparkling, inquisitive blue eyes blink up at Alfred as the alpha leans to look down at _his_ little girl, feeling his throat thicken and his eyes prickle with tears once more as he finally sees just how perfect this tiny human he and Arthur have created is.

“I love her so damn much,” Alfred says.

Arthur nods. The only other human in the world that’ll share the same intensity of love for their child as Alfred. He understands—because she’s _theirs._

“Here.” Arthur lifts her, bringing her closer to Alfred and the alpha bends his arm to accept her, nervousness flooding through him as the thought of dropping her or hurting her occurs to him. “You won’t hurt her, Alfred,” Arthur says, evidently detecting Alfred’s alarm in his scent.

She looks so small, so fragile, in Alfred’s arms, and Alfred holds her with every ounce of delicacy he can muster, as though he’s handling an eggshell. She babbles happily, eyes firmly set on to Alfred and Alfred can’t seem to tear his eyes off her either.

“How about Amelia?” Arthur questions, rearranging her blankets as she wriggles and kicks them. He caresses a finger across her cheek, watching her closely—the instinct and affection of a mother gleaming in his gaze.

“Yeah,” Alfred agrees. They’d never managed to settle on a name, though they’d had ideas but since they’d chosen not to know the sex or the type, they’d unconsciously left the choice to be a ‘then and there’ decision. “Yeah, she’s definitely an Amelia.”

The bond between him and Arthur begins to flicker, dancing with an antsy kind of sensation and Alfred knows how to fix it. He passes Amelia back to Arthur, knowing that it’s still too early for the omega to be separated from Amelia for long. Alfred’s more than content to watch them both, marvel at the curve of Amelia’s nose that resembles Arthur’s nose so closely, and the vibrancy of her blue eyes and the hint of cheekiness in her gaze.

He reaches down, allows Amelia to grab his thumb with her entire hand, and chirps noises and words of love at the omega.

“She’s going to be a handful, isn’t she?” Arthur says, unashamedly delighted.

“Sure is,” Alfred replies. “Look at how pretty she is. Daddy’s gonna have a hard time keeping all the alphas away. No nasty alphas are gonna go near my precious little girl, are they?” Alfred laughs as Amelia gurgles back in what seems like agreement.

He feels, rather than sees, Arthur’s eyes roll.

“I take that back, Amelia, your _father_ is going to be the handful.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for astrophysicks on tumblr.


End file.
